Well, guys, it's worse than I thought it could ever be. It's so bad, I had to pre-empt my previously scheduled post for today. Yeah, I know. Reeal baaad.
Yesterday, I went for my appointment with a new gastroenterologist to try and figure out what has been plaguing me all these years and making me lose all sorts of weight, and be a Type 7 most of the time.
First things first. This doctor = awesome. I was worried he might be kind of weird, since who really decides to work on people's asses and intestinal inner workings? No one in their right mind, that's who. But this doctor, he was okay.
Really thorough, really smart, but I honestly think he's on Quaaludes or whatever those things are that make you hyper (are Quaaludes uppers or downers?). The guy reminded me of Speedy Gonzales, or the Roadrunner. Wiiiiiing!!! Swoooosh! One moment, he's here, the next, he's gone. I need whatever he has. And yesterday please and thanks.
I realize this guy is of African-American descent, but he's all I could find in such short notice. My doc is Asian-Canadian. Close enough, no?
He asked lots of questions, touched me all over, breathed down my neck, and then told me I have to have an endoscopy. Didn't I tell you? I knew it, didn't I. See Monday's post here for more on that schlep.
And, I have to have a colonoscopy.
After I came to, I realized the doctor's words were echoing in my ears, like we were in a time travel tunnel, kind of like the Six Million Dollar Man when he brings out all his bionics, and there's that weird echo sound that reverberates through the television speakers. Cccccolonnnnossscccccopppppyyyyyy.
He quickly explained what he would be doing when he was inside my ass.
That's right. Just when you thought an endoscopy was enough, nay, the gods from above thought it would be right funny to also scope out my lower intestine.
The plan is that Dr. Quaalude is going to first do the endoscopy, zooming the camera tube down my maw and taking little pieces of tissue from here, there and everywhere. And then, when I think it's all done, he's going to turn me over and take another tube and go up my poopshoot, my bunghole, my schlemiel.
Guys, the bum hole wasn't made for such invasion.
And does this mean I need to shave? Because if it does, I am so screwed.
What am I going to do?
I asked if I could be drugged to the point of utter unconsciousness, and the doctor smiled and then said no. He explained that wasn't possible because they needed me partially awake, because otherwise I'd have to be intubated, which I don't see as such a bad thing, because as I see it, they're stuffing me full of tubes anyway, what's one more? But he didn't agree.
So, instead, they're going to give me a double dose of "sedation" as they put it, because I am having both procedures done consecutively. Apparently, this medication also helps you forget everything, so I'm hoping they're right, because if they're not, I might cry. In fact, I know I will. And I don't want something that will make me forget. I want something to totally confuse the hell out of me so that I don't even know my name before I go in for the procedure. I'm not too concerned about the after. Call me crazy.
I also asked if Mr. Handsome could come in with me, and they were pretty evasive about it, so I know what that means. It means no.
I'm going to keep working on that though, because I think if I have to go through this, Mr. Handsome should experience it with me. Kind of like the whole childbirth idea. Are you with me on this?
The day before the test will be most enjoyable too, folks. Because that day, I'm not allowed to eat anything. Not even a waffle. No milk in my tea or coffee. And I have to take a special little pill twice that day that is going to make me poop all day long, so I've been advised to stick close to a toilet, and bring a good magazine along.
And if you think that's fun ... I also have to supply three poop samples. Oh, I can hardly wait. May is a great and wonderful month.
Excuse me while I run to my cardiologist for a quick check-up. I seem to be having some arrhythmia.
I am a 46-year-old mom of two amazing children and wife to a wonderful and very patient man, and a lucky friend to many. I am a Realtor and a writer, but have also been a journalist, editor, and daycare provider. Not every day is a good day, but I sure try to keep smiling.